


Fiddauthor Week Four

by KittyKatBella



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11611617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyKatBella/pseuds/KittyKatBella
Summary: Yes, I'm starting late, but I didn't have an AO3 account at the beginning of the week, so just take the fics. Based on prompts from @fiddauthor-week-four on Tumblr.





	1. Day 1: Something Silly

“Fiddleford, _what_ are you wearing?”

“What?” Fiddleford looked down at his latest fashion accessory. “They’re called leg warmers, Ford.”

“They look ridiculous,” Ford scoffed, looking back down at his blueprints for the portal.

“They’re better than this trenchcoat fiasco ya got goin’ on over here,” Fiddleford argued playfully, sitting down across the table and motioning to his boyfriend. “Do ya even _have_ a fashion sense, Stanferd?”

“Scientists have no _need_ for fashion,” Ford rolled his eyes.

“Yer jus’ like Bella, ain’t ya?” Fiddleford asked, his eyes scanning carefully over another set of blueprints. “Just ‘cause ya don’ _need_ to doesn’ mean ya _shouldn’t_.”

“I don’ need to what?” Bella grinned, appearing in the doorway.

“Ah, right on time,” Ford teased, waving a hand at the woman. “I figured you would show up quick enough.”

“Ah, my muse is bein’ dumb,” Bella shrugged, sitting down at the third chair and glancing over the paper scattered across the table. “So what’s the topic of conversation that… I’ve been mentioned in?”

“Ford thinks mah leg warmers look silly,” Fiddleford began, “but he don’ even _have_ a sense’a fashion.”

He showed his leg warmers to Bella, who stared at them for a few seconds.

“Fiddleford, that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen.”

“Ha! See?” Ford grinned triumphantly.

“Oh, you don’ have a fashion sense neither,” Fiddleford argued, huffing in fake anger but grinning nonetheless. “You’ll throw on sweatpants an’ a t-shirt an’ call it fashion.”

“Hey, I ain’t ragging on ya fer… wearin’ what ya want,” Bella said. “You do you, I just think it looks dumb.”

“Well, that’s two to one,” Ford chuckled.

“Hey, Ah’ll have ya know that leg warmers are the latest fashion trend,” Fiddleford pointed a finger and the two others, who were both snickering to each other. “So technically, they’re cool righ’ now.”

“ _Suuuurrrreeee_ ,” Bella said, rolling her eyes around to look the other way. “’Cool’.”

“Uh-oh, finger quotations,” Ford grinned jokingly. “She means business.”

“Just ‘cause ya put quotations ‘round somethin’ doesn’t mean it ain’t true,” Fiddleford argued.

“Pfft, sure it does,” Bella scoffed. “It means yer sayin’ it sarcastically. Ck, _duh_.”

“She’s got a point,” Ford nodded in agreement.

“Alrigh’, Ah see that Ah’m the bad guy here,” Fiddleford rolled his eyes and smiled, looking down at the blueprints again. The smile slowly slid from his face after a moment, only to be replaced with a look of concern.

“Hey, darlin’? Can Ah ask ya somethin’ about these here blueprints?”


	2. Day 2: Snuggles/cuddles/hugs/sharing a bed

Fiddleford slowly opened his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight streaming in from the window. He was covered in a blanket and there was an odd pressure around his waist. Even without his glasses he could see that the bed across the room was empty, meaning Stan and Bella were likely downstairs and had let him sleep in.

 _But why?_ was the question that ran through his mind. Stan usually woke him and Ford up soon after he woke up.

Fiddleford decided to not question it any further, instead taking advantage of the little bit of extra sleep he got. He yawned and rolled over, fully intending to rest for a few more minutes. However, he was instead met with Stanford, his crush, two inches from his face. The southerner instantly felt his cheeks heat up.

 _We must’a fallen asleep durin’ the movie,_ he thought, remaining completely still. He could now identify the weight around his waist as Ford’s arm. He stared at the other boy, thanking the Lord above that he was still asleep. Fiddleford couldn’t help but adore just how cute Ford was when he was sleeping.

Of course, he had seen Ford asleep before. The four friends had sleepovers nearly every other night. He had noticed how cute Ford was at their first sleepover, and that was even before Fiddleford had developed a crush on him. Now it was just one thing added to the list of many reasons why Fiddleford loved Stanford.

He watched as Ford opened his eyes, blinking the sleep out of them. Fiddleford could almost see the gears turning in Ford’s brain, processing what was happening.

“Oh my gosh Fiddleford I am so sorry!” Ford cried, instantly sitting up and turning red in the face. The older boy internally pouted at the sudden lack of warmth around his waist and against his body. “Y-You had fallen asleep, and- and I-I-I didn’t want to wake you up, so I laid down and I- I didn’t mean to, I promise!”

“Stanferd, it’s alright,” Fiddleford assured, sitting up and reaching over to grab his glasses. He slipped them on his face as he continued to talk. “Ye were asleep, Ah don’ blame ya.”

“Sorry,” Ford mumbled, rubbing his arm.

“Don’ be,” Fiddleford said, the blush slowly leaving his own face. He set Ford’s glasses on the boy’s face, grinning at the confused, owlish look he gave him. “Let’s just go git breakfast, ok?”

“O-Ok,” Ford nodded, following Fiddleford out of the room.


	3. Day 3: Hurt/comfort

“…Fiddleford? Can I talk to you?”

“A’course, darlin’,” Fiddleford responded, looking up from his mechanics book. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

“N-no, not exactly,” Ford said nervously, scratching the back of his head. He sat down on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with his fingers. He didn’t look at his boyfriend, instead glancing around the room and at his hands. “I, um, ha-have to tell you something. But… promise you won’t be upset?”

“Stanferd Pines, did you wreck one’a my inventions?” Fiddleford asked sternly, folding his arms.

“No! No, it’s not that,” Ford denied. “S-something else.”

“Oh. Well what is it?” Fiddleford asked, becoming more relaxed. “Yer sweatin’ up a storm, hun. It can’ be that bad, can it?”

“I-I dunno,” Ford mumbled.

“Well c’mon, just tell me,” Fiddleford urged, moving to sit beside Ford. “Yer startin’a worry me.”

“I’m asexual!” Ford blurted out, instantly regretting it as he looked at Fiddleford nervously. Said boy seemed confused before smiling and biting back a giggle.

“Oh, is that it?” Fiddleford asked. “Good Lord, ya were makin’ it seem like it was somethin’ bad.”

“You’re… not upset?” Ford asked, feeling a strange mix of relief and confusion.

“A’course not,” Fiddleford laughed. “Why on Earth would ya think I would be?”

“W-well, aren’t couples supposed to want to, you know…” Ford squirmed as he looked for a way to phrase it, “have sex?”

“Couples don’ have ta do nothin’ if’in they ain’t willin’,” Fiddleford assured, taking one of Ford’s hands. “You can’ help that yer asexual, Ford. Sure, fer a while I had been… lookin’ forward to it, but I ain’t gonna make ya do anythin’ ya don’ wanna do. I would _never_ do that.”

“Really?” Ford smiled lightly, his relief obvious on his face.

“Ah love you fer _you_ , Stanferd,” Fiddleford chuckled. “If ya ain’t comfortable with sex, Ah won’ make ya do it.”

Ford laughed then, and it felt as though all his anxiety left with it. He fell back on the bed, his legs hanging off the edge. Fiddleford laughed too at seeing the joy on his boyfriend’s face.

“Oh, thank God,” Ford beamed. “Fiddleford, thank you _so_ so much.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to be thankin’ me for,” the older boy smiled. “…You really were nervous abou’ tellin’ me, huh?"

“Oh, definitely,” Ford nodded as Fiddleford laid down beside him. “Ever since Bella and Stan started doing it, I sorta felt that…”

“We should?” Fiddleford offered.

“Well… sort of, yeah,” Ford nodded again.

“Well ya don’ gotta worry ‘bout that now, do ya?” Fiddleford grinned, rolling on his side to kiss Ford’s cheek. He laughed, turning his head to meet Fiddleford’s lips.

“No. I don’t.”


	4. Day 4: Awkwardness/crushing

“What should Ah do, Bella?”

“You’re askin’ the wrong girl, Fidds,” Bella responded, not looking up from her drawing. “I haven’ ina- inner- interacted with anyone but you an’ Ford fer… the past… week.”

“Yeah, but you’ve also been in more relationships than me,” Fiddleford argued from the bed.

“I have?” Bella paused in her work, squinting slightly in confusion. “Hm. Maybe I have but that doesn’t mean I remember… how we got… together.”

“Oh. Right,” Fiddleford rolled his eyes. “Well, if ya had to tell someone you liked ‘em now, how would ya do it?”

“Hm…” Bella bit her nail thoughtfully. “How _would_ I… tell someone I like them? Maybe like, a note? Minimal social interaction, that’s how I’d do it. Even if Ah do know ‘em really well first.”

“Ah dunno, that seems kinda childish fer me,” Fiddleford mumbled.

“Well that’s what you get fer askin’ a _literal_ child,” Bella replied.

“Again, wrong use’a the word ‘literal’-”

“Shut yer mouth an’ let me use it how I want.”

“Fair enough,” Fiddleford shrugged. “But still, I need another idea.”

“Why don’ you just, go up and, tell him?” Bella suggested. “I mean, even if he, doesn’t, like you, it’s Ford. It’s not like he’s gonna be mean about it.”

“You’ve got a point,” Fiddleford nodded in agreement. “Alright, Ah’ll do it.”

“Ugh, finally!” Bella grinned. “I’ve been waitin’ fer you guys to get together since we met!”


	5. Day 5: Something sweet/sappy

“Come on Pointdexter, you’ve been avoiding him all night!” Stan groaned. Him and Ford were standing off to the side of the party. Now only a few people remained, including the twins, Bella, Fiddleford, Dan, Ria, Mabel, and one other girl.

“I know!” Ford moaned, glancing nervously over at the boy. “This is just really hard!”

“What’s hard about it?” Stan asked. “Just go up to him and ask to dance!”

“Ok, ok!” Ford exclaimed. He took a deep breath. “I’ll do it. I-I’ll ask him.”

“Alright, Sixer!” Stan cheered. “Three, two, one, go!”

Ford didn’t move.

“Ugh! Bro, come _on_ -!”

“Er- Stanferd?”

Both twins jumped spinning around to see Fiddleford standing by them.

“Oh, h-hi Fidds,” Ford greeted shakily.

“Um, first off, happy birthday,” Fiddleford began. “Ah don’ believe I’ve had the chance ta tell y’all yet.”

“Thanks, Fidds,” Stan smiled.

“Y-yeah, thank you,” Ford nodded, grinning and blushing.

“Also, um, Ah was wonderin’, Ford, if maybe ya wanted ta dance?” Fiddleford asked, his face also becoming red. “I-I mean, Ah completely understan’ if ya don’, th-that’s fine, but Ah just figured… well, Ah just saw ya standin’ to the side all nigh’-”

“N-no! I’d love to!” Ford interrupted, finally jumping out of his shock. Stan stood behind the two, giggling as he watched. “I’d love to dance… with you.”

“Oh! O-Ok,” Fiddleford grinned. He cleared his throat and offered a hand to the older twin with a joking smile. “May Ah have this dance?”

Ford laughed, feeling his nerves slowly leave.

“I’d be delighted,” he joked back, taking Fiddleford’s hand and letting himself be lead out to the dance floor.


	6. Day 6: Parallel fiddauthor/a better world au

“Are ya ready ta see where Daddy an’ Pa work, Tater-tot?”

“Yeah!” Tate cheered, throwing up his arms in excitement. “Are there gonna be cool monsters?”

“Hm, maybe,” Fiddleford smiled, adjusting the tie around Tate’s neck. “It ain’t too unusual fer somethin’ ta escape.”

“Cool!” Tate beamed. He squirmed as Fiddleford brushed the hair out of his eyes and to the side.

“There,” his dad said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Ya look so cute, Tate.”

Fiddleford stood up to get Ford, and Tate quickly pushed his hair back in front of his eyes. He waited by the door, listening to his parents talk in the other room.

“Alright, yes, we’re leaving,” Ford was saying when they entered the room.

“Ok Tate, time ta go,” Fiddleford said, taking his son’s hand.

“Daddy, wait!” The seven-year-old spoke, pulling against Fiddleford’s hand. “Wha’ about Kitty? Aunt Bella said Ah gotta take care’a her!”

“Ok, ok,” Fiddleford sighed. “Stanferd darlin’, would ya mind gettin’ Tate’s kitty?”

“On it,” Ford nodded, hurrying upstairs and returning with a worn black-and-white stuffed cat. “Here you go, Tate.”

“Thank you, Pa!” Tate beamed, taking the cat in his arm. “Ok, ready ta go!”

“Let’s get this Take Yer Kid Ta Work day started,” Fiddleford smiled, leading Tate out to the car.

—–

“Ready?”

“Uh-huh!” Tate nodded, his hands covering his eyes under his hair.

“Aright, open them up,” Ford said. Tate opened his eyes and moved his hands, exclaiming in awe upon seeing the building. The inside was filled with scientific instruments and containers of weird creatures that Tate had never seen before. Adults hurried around as they worked.

“This is the Institute of Oddology, Tate,” Ford said.

“Cool!” Tate grinned, bouncing on his feet as he held onto Kitty.

“You have ta stay in the Kid’s Zone while we work, but we’ll show ya around durin’ lunch,” Fiddleford promised.

“Ok, Daddy,” Tate responded. Ford and Fiddleford led him over to a room with other kids. Two employees were looking after them, and the kids aged anywhere from five to fourteen.

“Have fun sweetie, an’ maybe try ta make some friends,” Fiddleford said, bending down to give Tate a hug. “Be good. We’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Ok, bye bye!” Tate waved as his dads left.


	7. Day 7: Post-weirdmageddon Fiddauthor

“Hey Ford. What’s up?”

“Oh, just making sure everything is cleaned up from Weirdmaggedon,” Ford answered casually. “Now that Stanley has his memory back, I have a bit more freetime to do so.”

“Oh,” Bella nodded, looking over the oh-so familiar panels. “So, do you know when yer gonna be done?”

“Mm… likely before the end of the day,” Ford said. “Why do you ask?”

“Well it’s just, before… Weirdmaggedon, you haven’t seen Fiddleford recently,” Bella responded.

“…Do you think he’d even _want_ to see me?” Ford asked with a frown.

“Of course he would!” Bella assured. “I mean, hell, I wanted to see you! Right?”

“I suppose you did,” Ford nodded. “Alright, I’ll visit him tomorrow morning. Where does he live?”

“I’ll walk over with ya, but I won’t- I ain’t gonna stay,” Bella said. “I think you two sh- could use some time to yerselves.”

—–

“A little warning before you see him,” Bella began, leading Ford to Fiddleford’s home, “his brain hasn’t been in the, right place for a while. Dipper told me he’s getting better, but he’s still a little… not good.”

“What do you mean, ‘not good’?” Ford asked, raising an eyebrow.

“…You’ll see,” Bella said. “Ah mean, yeah, he’s still F-ff-f-Fidds, jus’ a lil’ more…” she let out a breath, thinking deeply, “less anxiety? I don’ know how to… uh… describe it, really. I don’ wanna say ‘crazy’…”

“Alright,” Ford nodded. Finally they reached where Fiddleford lived. “He lives in the _dump_?”

“I tried ta offer him a place at the Mystery Shack, but he jus’… didn’ want to,” Bella shrugged. “Didn’ wanna be a bother.”

“Sounds like Fiddleford alright,” Ford murmured.

“I’ll leave ya here,” Bella said. “You know the way back.”

“Alright. I’ll see you later,” Ford responded. Bella nodded and began the walk back to the Mystery Shack. Ford, however, entered the dump and began searching for Fiddleford.

“Howdy, Stanferd!”

Ford spun around to see Fiddleford standing outside a small shack and waving ecstatically. A huge grin was on his face, and Stanford couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hello, Fiddleford,” the ex-dimension hopper greeted. “It’s been awhile since we’ve had the opportunity to talk, so I figured I’d pay you a visit.”

“Yer darn tootin’ it’s been awhile!” Fiddleford laughed and moved the pelt that covered the doorway into the hut. “Come on in!”

Ford had to duck to enter the hut. Once the two were inside they sat in a pair of old wooden rocking chairs and began to chat.

They talked for hours. Ford told about his adventures in the multiverse, and Fiddleford interrupted quite often to ask questions. The topics of conversation went just about everywhere, including when Ford noticed a pile of blueprints.

“Aw, those are jus’ some ol’ doodles,” Fiddleford waved it off when Ford began to look through them. "Ain’t nothin’ special.”

“Fiddleford, are you kidding?” Ford grinned, unable to express his delight. “These are amazing! You have to submit these to the government! I think they could really get you somewhere!”

“Wow, ya think so?” Fiddleford grinned. “Hm, well maybe Ah will!”

“I wish you luck,” Ford smiled. He checked the time on his watch and stood up. “I should get going. It’s getting pretty late.”

“Wait! A’fore ya go, Ah was hopin’ Ah could play ya a tune,” Fiddleford said, pulling his banjo out from behind the chair.

“Fiddleford, you know I’m not a big fan of the banjo-”

“Aw, come on!” Fiddleford insisted. “Ah’ve been practicin’!”

“Well… alright, but only one song,” Ford allowed, sitting back down across from Fiddleford. The man beamed as he began to play. Ford found himself enjoying the song, and he was quickly reminded of all the days in college when Fiddleford would play and sing for him.

Once the song was over, Ford said goodbye and began to leave. Right before he stepped outside, his eyes lingered on the completed Cubic’s Cube on the desk.


End file.
